


lucky

by Blue_Pluto



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Injury Recovery, M/M, Permanent Injury, he's dealin w/ it, pretty well actually?, request fic, ron lost his arm durin the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Pluto/pseuds/Blue_Pluto
Summary: Movement catches Ron’s eye, and the world seems to slow. A man emerges from the shadows, as if they created him rather than simply hid him. His face is contorted in rage, and his lips already form a half-spoken curse.Ron doesn't have time to think, to do anything but act on pure instinct. He twists himself- and Harry in his arms, and covers the other with his body.There's not even a second before the curse hits him, and unimaginable pain engulfs his arm. The last thing he hears is a strangled cry of his name, before the world goes dark.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Comments: 39
Kudos: 175





	lucky

_ They’re still in the castle, but the battle is over. Voldemort is dead. They’re safe.  _

_ (They’re  _ **_supposed_ ** _ to be safe.)  _

_ Around them the dead are being carried away, and the injured are being treated. Ron would be helping, if he wasn't needed here more.  _

_ He holds onto Harry- his best friend, his first love, his  _ **_everything_ ** _. Harry’s shaking and his eyes are glassy, and Ron’s asked him if he wants to go to bed four times already. But Harry says he can’t, that he owes it to everyone to wait.  _

_ (Ron doesn't think it’s good for him, to see everyone who was hurt, who died in the battle. He knows Harry will blame himself. But Harry asked him to wait, and Ron would let him do anything- do anything for him- if Harry asked.)  _

_ Movement catches Ron’s eye, and the world seems to slow. A man emerges from the shadows, as if they created him rather than simply hid him. His face is contorted in rage, and his lips already form a half-spoken curse.  _

_ Ron doesn't have time to think, to do anything but act on pure instinct. He twists himself- and Harry in his arms, and covers the other with his body.  _

_ There's not even a second before the curse hits him, and unimaginable pain engulfs his arm. The last thing he hears is a strangled cry of his name, before the world goes dark.  _

-=+=-

Ron wakes choking on his own scream. He tries to push himself up, but he fumbles, relying on a limb that's no longer there. 

Ron collapses into his mound of pillows, taking gasping breaths. It’s a few minutes until he can get himself in control. Or, well, as close to being in control as he can be anymore. 

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Ron struggles a moment to throw the covers off him, still unused to using his left arm months after losing his right. 

Eventually he manages it, though mostly by kicking at them until he’s no longer tangled instead of any manual dexterity. Eh, it works, even if Harry will complain about the messed up sheets when he gets home. 

After he manages to actually get out of bed, Ron stumbles his way into the bathroom. It’s late in the morning, almost afternoon, but that's not a surprise. His sleep schedule has been completely screwed for months, between nightmares (his and Harry’s), unfortunate side effects from the curse, and one or two emergency surgeries. 

When he enters the bathroom he stops, and stares into the reflection in front of him. 

He should really be used to the sight by now, but seeing the stump where his arm once was still makes his stomach roll. Runes tattooed into his skin wrap around his bicep, a few inches above where his elbow used to be. Underneath them the skin is a dead, unnatural charcoal black, dried and ugly. The runes act like a wall, of sorts. The dead skin stops just underneath them, in a perfect, clean border. 

The healers say he was lucky, to have been hit in the arm. The curse is one meant to kill slowly, with as much pain as possible. A sort of parasitic magical infection, that starts from where it hits and spreads out, draining the host’s magic and killing them little by little. 

But, since Ron was hit in the arm, they can contain it there. Not quite get rid of it, but stop it from doing anymore damage. 

Ron doesn't feel all that lucky. He was bedreddin for weeks after the attack, the drain on his magic enough to send him into a coma. Even after he woke he was weak and feeble, debilitated even more so by the loss of his arm. 

The drain still affects him, to a degree. They can’t get rid of the curse, only stop it’s spread and slow it’s absorption of his magic. He has to take some potions that leave him tired and achy, but they keep him alive. His cursed flesh stays at a constant dull throb, but it’s manageable so long as no one touches it. 

The only really bad thing that happened was about a week after he returned home the first time, his heart stopped. At the time they were using a simple spell to keep the curse at bay, but it wasn't strong enough. The curse had still been able to pull at Ron’s magic, and there by his life force, enough to put his life in danger. He’d been rushed into surgery, and the next day he’d gotten the tattoos. 

His mother had been devastated. And angry. Not quite with him, like she’d been when Bill had gotten his first tattoo, but with the situation itself. 

If he was anyone else, he’d have a magical replacement by now. But, of  _ course _ , the sodding curse makes that impossible. He’ll get a muggle one eventually, but there's a hundred thousand complications stopping him. So for now, he has to just wait. 

The whole situation is shite. Even still, if given the choice, Ron would do it again. Again and again and again, a thousand times over, he’d make the same decision. Because he saw where that Death Eater was aiming, _ knew _ what would happen otherwise.

He’s imagined it a thousand times, what would have happened if he hadn't been there. Dreamt of being across the room when the man attacked, and watching it hit Harry straight in the chest. Of screaming out Harry’s name like Harry had his, of appariting to St. Mungos, of being told that there was nothing they could do. 

Ron shakes his head to clear the dark thoughts away. He always yells at Harry for dwelling on what-ifs, if he does the same he’ll be a hypocrite. 

It takes him a little longer than it used to to get ready, but he manages. Hermionie got them a handful of refillable soap bottles with pumps on them, so showering isn’t all that difficult. Getting dressed is a bit more wearying, but soon Ron’s fully clothed and drying his hair out with a spell. 

He started growing it out a while back, and it’s almost as long as even Ginny’s now. Some people suggested he cut it, but he doesn't want to. 

His hair’s obnoxiously difficult to brush out on his own, but he can technically do it. Though he mostly lets Harry do it for him. It’s just easier that way. 

Since Harry brushes it out for him almost every night, Ron’s hair isn’t all that tangled, even if he did just get out of the shower. So he decides to just put it up into a simple bun for now, and finish dealing with it later. 

Ron makes his way down to the kitchen of Grimuld place, feeling much better than he had when he woke up. It’s almost noon, which means Harry will be back from work soon for lunch. 

Ron starts on making lunch for the two of them. Harry'd been extremely hesitant to get any sort of job, with Ron’s health and the restoration of Grimuld place. But eventually Ron managed to talk him into working mornings part-time at Quality Quidditch Supplies, mostly just to stop Harry from moping about the house or fretting over him for every moment of every day. 

He finishes making a plate of sandwiches, mostly using his magic to cut and layer everything. His wand is very loyal, willow and unicorn hair, so it doesn't protest his change of hand like others might. 

After he finishes, Ron’s rather exhausted. The curse makes doing any magic, no matter how small, take quite a bit of energy. 

He grabs one of the sandwiches from the plate and covers the rest, before settling in on the sofa. He didn’t expect to be done so soon, so he still has a good bit of time before Harry comes back. He reads as he nibbles on his sandwich- a fiction one much more entertaining than the ones they read in school. 

Ron’s not sure when he drifts off, but it’s not much of a surprise. He wakes to fingers softly stroking through his hair, and a soft humming tune. His hair tie is gone, so his hair falls freely over his boyfriend's lap. 

Ron opens his eyes to Harry smiling down softly at him. 

“Mornin’.” He mumbles. Harry caresses his cheek, before leaning down to give Ron a chaste kiss. It’s difficult because of the weird angle, so he pulls away after only a second or two. 

“I made lunch.” Ron says, closing his eyes, still sleepy. 

“I saw. Thank you.” Harry’s hand is still moving through Ron’s hair, and his voice is a soothing quiet. 

“Did you like it?” 

“Of course.” Harry says. His voice is still soft, but there's a bit of a teasing ‘stop fishing for compliments’ tone that makes Ron smile. 

“Don’t you have something better to do than be my pillow?” Ron asks him. 

Harry makes a non-committal hum. “Not really. I like being your pillow just fine.” 

Ron smiles softly, struggling to stay awake. 

Harry’s been his center, since the war. He was the one there when Ron first woke up, looking haggard and not having moved for days. Harry’s the one who memorized everything the healers said, asking more questions and memorizing more information than even Hermoine. He’s the one who noticed how Ron was suffocating in his mother’s house, and invited Ron to come live here with him instead. 

Harry’s the one who never treated Ron like he was broken. He’s always there to help, but only if Ron asks. He’s never forced Ron to  _ go sit back down, I got it,  _ or treated him like an invalid. Harry’s just… been Harry. He’s been there for Ron, and let him be himself. 

Of course, Ron does the same. He holds Harry when the other cries, wakes Harry when nightmares plague him. And Harry might have pulled away a bit at first, but that was just because he’s  _ Harry.  _ That's just what he does. 

They have a life together now, a partnership that makes so much sense Ron regrets not being able to be together sooner. He knows why they couldn't- they’d discussed it years ago. After he was poisoned, and whispered Harry’s name in his sleep, they’d talked for hours. 

They’d made a promise that, when everything was over, they’d try. But they had to wait. 

He’d known, of course, and he doesn't resent the choice. Just the situation that drove them to it. 

But now, they don’t have to wait anymore. They’re together, and it’s… everything. Everything Ron ever thought it might be, and more. 

As he drifts off to sleep, Ron thinks that maybe he’s pretty lucky after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> pls comment this isn't very good but plsssss


End file.
